


Painted Lies

by InterruptingMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A painting, Abused Castiel, Alternate Universe, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ghost!Castiel, Haunted Houses, I'll add some more tags later, I'm just too lazy to write them out, Is it Major Character Death if the character was dead before the story even started?, M/M, Michael and Lucifer own a comic book store, Multi, Suicide, There is going to be more characters, because why not?, human!dean, in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterruptingMoose/pseuds/InterruptingMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Novak Manor. Despite the greatness of it's name, it did not have the greatest history. A history that had been warped and mutated over the years that nobody knew the real truth. Many question were thrown around as people tried to uncover the truth.</p><p>Did Castiel Novak murder his own parents?</p><p>Is Zachariah Novak responsible for the death of his own son?</p><p>In the 1920s, the Novaks were the perfect family. Wealthy, successful and well-loved by the whole community. But on July 1st, their only son, Castiel, was found dead by the old willow tree, having taken his own life.</p><p>A year later, Zachariah and Naomi Novak met their own bloody demise. No one understood how or why, but for some strange reason; no one questioned it.</p><p>The house, however, was left abandoned. But the thing that scared the people were the faint whispers that echoed around the whole neighbourhood;</p><p>Otkroyte vorota.</p><p>Razbit' steklo.</p><p>Pomogi mne.</p><p>No one dared to enter Novak Manor.</p><p>That is until Dean Winchester moves into town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're a Long Way from Home

Dean watched as the trees flew by his window. He rested his head on the cold glass and plugged in his earphones.

He looked around the car, Sam and Adam, who were tapping furiously at their DS buttons, occasionally shoving the other one and declaring him a cheater, were sitting next to him.

Sam and Adam were Dean's little brothers, twins actually. They were fraternal twins. They were fifteen, Sam being a few minutes older than Adam. Sam had long brown floppy hair, hazel puppy dog eyes and was extremely tall for his age. Adam, on the other hand, had blonde spikes, like Dean, only lighter and green eyes, also like Dean, and was tall for his age, not as tall as Sam, though.

Nobody is as tall as Sam.

Mary and John sat in the front of the car, a 1967 Chevy Impala, arguing and bickering over a map. Dean paused his music to listen to their argument.

"John, just admit it, we're lost." Mary sighed.

"We are not lost, okay?" John said, looking at the map. "I know exactly where we are."

"Okay, Genius John, where are we exactly?" Mary asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow.

"On a road." John replied and Dean started laughing.

"Haha, I get it, comedy." Mary replied.

"You tell him, mum." Adam encouraged her, not looking up from his game.

"Show her who's boss, dad." Sam muttered, not looking up from his game either.

Dean plugged his earphones in again as Mary and John continued to argue.

You are probably wondering why Mary and John were arguing over a map. You see, the Winchesters are moving again. They are leaving their sunny home in California and moving to Kansas.

Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

Dean turned his music up to full blast, one, because he likes loud music and two, to piss off Sam and Adam, who don't agree with his music choices. The two younger Winchesters paused their game to glare at him and Dean smirked, listening to the lyrics.

Exit light,

Dean watched as the first drop of rain splattered on the window, rolling down the window like a tear and leaving a small trail of water in it's wake.

Enter night,

More drops of rain splattered heavily against the window, leaving tiny specks of water around it. Soon enough the rain obscured the window and Dean could only make out the green blurs that belonged to the trees and bushes.

Take my hand,

Dean looked out his window and watched as he left his life in California flew by and he entered a new one. No turning back now, Dean thought. Life in Kansas, here we come.

We're off to never never land.

...............

"Dean. Dean! Wake up! We're here!" Sam and Adam said, shaking their older brother awake.

"Hmm? Time is it?" Dean murmured sleepily, opening his eyes.

"Six pm." Adam replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"C'mon dude, I call dibs on the biggest room!" Sam said, running towards their new house, Adam hot on his trail.

"Not a chance in hell!" Adam yelled, tackling Sam.

Dean chuckled at his younger brothers. He climbed out of the car and shut the door with his foot, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes as the two youngest Winchesters rolled around on the ground, yelling and laughing at each other.

As Dean rolled his eyes, something caught his eye. It was a house. Sure, there were a few houses around but this one was different.

At the very bottom of the street, guarded by black steel railings, stood the derelict, neglected old house. The house was old, probably from around the Victorian era. The windows were darkened with dust and grime, as though dark eyes were watching Dean's every move. There was a path that lead up to a set of brick steps, and the overgrown grass rustled lightly by a wind that was never there. The paint was barely recognisable, peeling off of the walls of the house and dampened with years of neglect. There was a sense of eeriness hanging around the house, a fog hung around the house and dark shadows were lurking in the still air.

Dean dropped his bag onto the ground and slowly made his way towards the old, abandoned house. He stopped when he came face to face with steel gates, which were guarded by two brick walls with black marble sign carved into them. It was covered in dust and webs, so Dean wiped his hand over it, getting rid of most of the dirt. There was gold writing engraved in the marble, it read:

Novak Manor 

A strange feeling hung around the house, and Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Dean suddenly felt as if he were being watched.

Dean reached forward slowly, unsure of what he was doing. Something told him to open the gates. Whispers echoed in the wind, whispers that he did not understand. But they were orders, he didn't know how he knew they were orders, but they were.

And something told him to follow those orders.

Otkroyte vorota.

Razbit' steklo.

Pomogi mne.

The wind started to pick up and the whispers became louder and louder, echoing all around and wrapping themselves around Dean's mind.

Otkroyte vorota.

Razbit' steklo.

Pomogi mne.

Dean clasped his hand around the steel bars and was about to push it open. The whispers becoming louder and louder until they were screams.

OTKROYTE VOROTA!

RAZBIT' STEKLO!

POMOGI MNE!

"Dean?" Dean snapped out of his trance and quickly withdrew his hand from the gate and slowly backed away, confused. He looked around, there was no wind or whispers, just Mary calling out to him.

Dean jogged back to the car, picked up his bag and walked up to his own house. He cast a final glance at the house and then snapped his head back in the direction of the house.

He observed it for a moment or two before blinking and mentally slapping himself. C'mon Dean, man up, he thought.

Throughout dinner, Dean was too caught up in his own thoughts to join into the conversations going on around him.

When he climbed into bed that night, he was still distracted by his own imagination.

It's just that when he looked back for a second...

He could've sworn he'd seen a boy standing in the window watching him.

When Dean finally drifted off to sleep, a soft whisper echoed it's way around his room.

Pomogi mne.


	2. The Legend of Novak Manor

"Hurry up, Sam!" Adam called from the front door and then went to sit in the car. The youngest Winchester relaxed as he shut the door of the 1967 Chevy Impala.

"Cold outside?" Dean laughed, watching Adam from the rear view mirror. Adam just gave him a bitch face and tightened his scarf around himself.

Dean laughed again and turned up the radio, mouthing along while Adam just took out his PSP and played Call of Duty. Dean watched Adam through the rear view mirror and shook his head. 

"What's so great about those things?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What's so great about Black Sabbath?" Adam retorted, without taking his eyes off of the game.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You'll never understand good music." He replied.

"Sorry, grandpa." Adam snorted.

Dean sighed. He adjusted the mirror and stopped when he caught sight of the Novak Manor.

Dean watched the house for any sign of movement. The house had a fog surrounding it and Dean could see the faint outline of a large willow tree. Dean watched the house carefully, squinting his eyes. His eyes focused on the tree, a blurred shape. 

But there was another shape forming in the mist.

A silence fell. A cold, eerie silence and everything seemed to slow down. Dean watched the form, which made out to be a person, the person was standing on a branch. 

"What the..." Dean whispered and his eyes widened when the form dropped. And Dean just barely saw it. A very, very thin faint outline of a rope. 

The shape fell and it seemed like forever. 

It fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And it kept falling until -

SLAM!

Dean jolted out if his trance as Sam climbed into the passenger seat, muttering excuses.

"You okay?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

"I - yeah." Dean shook his head. He looked back in the rear view mirror. The blurred shapes were gone, although the fog still hung around the house.

"Dude, we're gonna be late." Sam said, looking at his watch.

"Well, I'm sorry, Samantha," Dean replied sarcastically. "Not all of us spend half an hour washing our hair."

"How many times have I told you, I have to condition it..." And thus began a series of arguments as the Winchester boys drove to school.

...............

"Bonjour. Me llamo Charlie." Was the first thing Dean heard as he sat down at his desk in homeroom. He turned his head and suddenly had a face full of red headed chick.

"Do you mind?" Dean asked and Charlie backed away, her hands raised, and Dean noticed the Spock gesture. "I'm Dean." He added, holding out his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Dean." Charlie grinned at him. 

"Ahem." Someone cleared their throat behind Charlie and Charlie rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Dean, this is Meg." She said, leaning back and gesturing to the brunette girl sitting next to her.

"Nice to meet you." Meg said, a faint smirk on her face, offering out a pale, slender hand. Dean shook her hand, giving her a smile.

"She's my lady friend." Charlie said, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Balthazar Roché, what have I told you about smoking in class?" The homeroom teacher said in a tone that sounded as though it had given up a long time ago.

"Sorry, miss." A British accent replied, and a blonde boy stood up and went to sit by the window. "Let me just finish this one." He said, flicking ash out the window.

The teacher sighed, resting her head in her hands. "What am I going to do with this class?" She asked to herself, but that didn't stop the students from answering.

"You could excuse us all for the week!" 

"Buy us alcohol!"

"Take us to the movies!" 

Dean sat back and looked around. The class was quite small, maybe fourteen or fifteen students, who were all suggesting answers to their teacher's problem.

He could get along with this class.

...............

"Where are we going again?" Dean asked as he turned a corner.

"To Mike and Luce's comic book store." Charlie replied.

"I don't know who Mike and Luce are." Dean replied.

"You'll learn." Meg said from the back, filing her nails as Sam and Adam were focused on their game.

"Here we are!" Charlie said as Dean pulled up next to the comic book store. They all climbed out of the car and Dean didn't understand how Sam and Adam did it without looking away from their gaming devices.

"If you're done playing tonsil hockey." Charlie called over the store where two boys, Mike and Luce, Dean assumed, where currently making out.

The pulled away from each other and looked at Charlie. 

"I've seen you do worse with a comic book." A blonde replied, smirking. 

"How could I not? Look at the sexiness of these comic books." Charlie said, running her fingers along the the spines of the comic books.

"How could I not? Look at the sexiness of Michael." The blonde, Luce, Dean concluded, replied. Michael hid his face in the crook of Luce's neck, his cheeks tinged pink.

"This is Dean, my new friend. As you can see, he is the human form of sex. And these are his brothers, Sam and Adam, who are cute because it would be a little weird for me to call them sex." Charlie introduced them.

Michael stood back and offered out his hand to Dean. "Michael Milton." He introduced.

"Dean Winchester." Dean replied, accepting and shaking Michael's hand. 

"Nice to meet you." Michael said with a warm smile. "This is my boyfriend, Lucifer Pellegrino."

"No offence... but who would name their child Lucifer?" Dean asked.

"Who would name their child Dean? It rhymes with bean." Lucifer shrugged.

"Touché." Dean replied.

...............

"Yello!" A golden haired boy called as he entered the store, followed by a boy with sandy blonde hair.

"Hello, Gabriel." Michael said, putting some comic books back in place. "Hello, Samandriel."

"Heya, Mikey." Gabriel grinned, a lollipop hanging from his mouth as he hopped up onto the counter.

"Hi, Michael." Samandriel greeted, his eyes focused on his game. In his path, he accidentally crashed into Adam, who was also focused on his game. 

"Woah, sorry, dude." Adam apologised, finally looking up.

"I'm sorry." Samandriel said, finally looking up and the two of them just stared into each other's eyes.

"It's a love story." Gabriel said like a proud mother, his hand over his heart. But something caught his eyes. "And it is love at first sight. Damn, who is that?" Gabriel asked, eyeing Sam. Sam looked up in confusion and Gabriel winked at him.

Sam blushed and looked back down at his game, a smile breaking out on his features. Gabriel shimmied over to him and stood next to him, right in his personal space.

"What up?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh... not much?" Sam stuttered.

"What's your name?" Gabriel asked.

"Sam." Sam replied after a little while.

"I'm Gabriel." Gabriel winked. "So Samsquatch, I figured since you're good looking and I'm good looking that we should be good looking together."

"... Okay?" Sam said and Gabriel grinned at him.

"Good." 

...............

"I'm hungry." Charlie decided after a while. "Winchester. Take me to your home and give me food."

"Fine." Dean sighed a sigh of the incredibly put on. "Let's go."

Meg, Charlie and Dean walked back into the main store and Samandriel and Adam were still just staring at one another and Sam was practically being molested.

"We're gonna go home, you coming?" Dean asked.

"Sure." Sam said and then gave Gabriel a hug. 

"SUCCESS." Gabriel yelled.

Sam looked over to where Dean was, unsuccessfully, trying to get Adam's attention.

"Okay." Dean sighed and picked Adam up off of the ground and carried him out of the store.

"Bye." Adam said dreamily, waving at Samandriel, who was unashamedly doing the same thing. "I miss him already." Adam sniffed as soon as they left the store.

...............

"Woah." Charlie said as the pulled up into Dean's neighbourhood. "Novak Manor." She all but whispered.

"You know about that house?" Dean asked, watching the house carefully.

"Everyone does." Meg replied. "Creepiest place in town."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"In the 1920s, a family lived there. They were called the Novaks." Charlie began. "They were perfect, wealthy, well-loved but then the only son, Castiel, committed suicide on the first of July. He was only seventeen. He hung himself on that tree... there." Charlie pointed to the faint outline of the old willow tree. 

Dean felt his breath hitch in his throat as an image flashed a crossed his mind.

The blurred person falling from the tree.

"A year later, on his anniversary, his parent were brutally murdered inside the house." Charlie went on. "All of the doors and windows were locked, there was no sign of break in or break out, if anything, the killer had been in the house. But when they searched it, try found no evidence of anyone ever being there. So, rumours began to circulate that it was Castiel's ghost that killed them, because he blamed them for his death." 

"Back then, no one questioned what happened." Meg concluded. "They say the place is haunted, but no one has entered the house since the 1920s. Apparently you can hear the Novaks screaming for help or you can hear whispers." Meg said. 

"And apparently, you can sometimes see Castiel committing suicide." Charlie finished.

"If people are so afraid, why don't they just get rid of the house?" Sam asked, watching the house curiously.

"Apparently, in 1968, I think, they did and when everyone woke up the next day, the house was back as if it hasn't been destroyed." Charlie said.

"It doesn't sound that scary." Dean said, shrugging.

"No, it doesn't." Charlie agreed. "But there is a lot of truth missing to this story, Dean. It's been told and retold for generations, the truth has been warped and mutated over the years."

A light shone on all of them as the door swung open and Mary was ushering them inside.

Dean took one last look at the house.

And then he heard it, but I wasn't a whisper this time. This time it was a broken cry.

Pomogi mne.


	3. Just a Dream

Dean sat in his room, the darkness embracing him. The only source of light was the moon shining through his window, casting shadows into the corners of the room.

Dean shifted onto his side and looked out of the window, he could see Novak Manor, clear as day, and it was once again surrounded by the mist that never seemed to leave the place.

The house was strange, Dean had to admit. It had a sense of dread when you came close to it, you get the feeling that you should run, and never stop running, but you can't, because you're drawn to the house, like a moth to a flame. 

Dean searched the house for any sign of movement. There was none. His wandering gaze landed on the large willow tree and an image flashed through his head. The person hanging on the tree, like he had seen earlier that morning.

He shook his head, he was tired that morning, probably just imagining things.

Dean eventually fell asleep but a few hours later he woke up and tensed in his bed. He had a feeling that someone was watching him. He shook his head, he was being stupid.

He closed his eyes again about to drift into a peaceful sleep but suddenly, his blankets were torn from his bed. Dean's eyes snapped open and his blood ran cold, he couldn't move, he was frozen in place.

An unsettling coldness swept through the room. A daunting silence fell, not even the wind dared to break it.

There was someone in Dean's room. 

A boy.

A pale, transparent boy with cuts and bruises littered across the visible part of his pale skin. His messy dark locks fell just above his eyes. 

His eyes.

They contrasted with the dark bruises surrounding them. His eyes, as starry midnight. The blue dark and deep, with crystal shards like stars but they were also as bright as day, like they were born from the heart of the sun, an endless blue that was ancient and forever and would only grow brighter as time would pass.

And they looked a little angry.

A feeling of dread and coldness washed through Dean, his room seemed to be darkening and he felt suffocated. He throat felt constricted as he tried to scream.

The boy began to slowly glide toward him, unblinking as he reached a pale, bruised hand out. He moved closer. And closer. Slowly. Very slowly. His eyes were dead as he moved closer to Dean and just as he was less than a metre away from him, Dean finally managed to let out a strangled yell.

In a few seconds, his door slammed open and Dean could move again, his head snapped to the door, where his father stood with his gun in one hand, looking around worriedly and determined.

"What's wrong, Dean?" John asked, taking in Dean's pale, shaking figure.

Dean turned around to the place the boy had been, but he was gone. Dean jumped from the bed and ran to the window and his heart stopped. He watched as the gates to Novak Manor slowly closed over. 

On their own.

"Dean?" Dean's attention was diverted as his father switched in the light and Dean looked away from the house. He looked at his father, his green eyes were full of concern and worry, so Dean decided to tell him the truth.

"There was someone in here, Dad." Dean admitted, turning back to the house. "In my room."

"What? Who?" John demanded, as he walked to the window to make sure it was locked and that there was no one outside.

"I-I don't know. But he was standing right there." Dean pointed to the spot the boy had been.

"Dean, all of the windows and doors are locked, there's no way someone could have gotten in." John explained, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Maybe you just had a bad dream."

"Maybe." Dean agreed, watching the house. "Sorry for waking you, dad." He apologised, sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it, kiddo." John said, rough king his hair and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a kid anymore, dad." He complained half-heartedly, grinning slightly.

"Sure you're not." John chuckled. "Just try and get some sleep."

"Night, dad." Dean yawned and John bid him goodnight and left. Dean climbed back into bed, his dad was right, there's no way anyone could have gotten, it must have been a bad dream, it was the only other explanation. He had been silly.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. 

He didn't notice the boy standing in the corner of the room.

...............

The next morning, Dean sat down at the table for breakfast. Mary set down a plate of pancakes in front of him, patting his head as she did so. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, mom." He yawned.

Sam and Adam were already tapping away furiously on their PSPs, nibbling at their breakfasts bit by bit.

"I wish you two would put those things away." Mary complained, but was ignored as Adam yelled in victory while Sam wore a bitchface, muttering angrily under his breath.

Dean looked up to see his dad watching him with a concerned eye. Dean looked behind him and then turned back. "Y'okay, dad?" He asked.

"... Yeah." John muttered. "I'm gonna check out your window later tonight, make sure it works properly." He said, standing up. He kissed Mary on the cheek and left for work, ruffling Sam and Adam's hair as he went.

Dean remembered back to the previous night, he had never been so afraid in his life, but it was a dream. Just a dream... right?

"You're going to be late for school!" Mary's voice cut Dean off from his thoughts and he, Adam and Sam quickly left the house, Dean's mind focused on getting to school on time.

...............

"Can I go to the nurse?" Dean asked, raising his hand. He was feeling slightly dizzy and could feel a headache coming on.

"Go on, dear." Mrs. White said, she was an elderly woman, she was kind and gentle but was also one of those teachers you wouldn't dare to cross.

Dean left the room quickly and made his way to the nurse. He stumbled slightly, his vision blurring and swaying, going in and out of focus. 

Dean leant against the nearest locker, taking deep breaths, but nothing was shaking his swaying vision. 

There was an incessant buzzing in his ear, but instead of ignoring it, he tried to listen to it. It was like endless chatter, like everyone trying to speak at once. He closed his eyes as several voices echoed through his head.

Dean opened his eyes and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The corridor was suddenly full of students, who were laughing and chatting.

"What...?" Dean looked around, swaying as he did so. The kids were dressed strangely, girls were wearing dresses that flowed to their knees and the boys were wearing trousers with suspenders and dress shirts with rolled up sleeves.

His visions swayed in and out of focus as the kids just walked by, as though he were invisible. Dean held onto the locker door to try and steady himself from falling over, but there was no lockers.

"Hello?" Dean barely managed to get out, he was pretty sure he was going to faint. He felt very warm and suffocated.

If he could get someone's attention, they could help him. He reached forward but the girl just walked straight through his hand, giggling with her friends.

Dean leant too far forward and stumbled, losing his balance, he fell, hitting his head off of the ground as he did so. As he lay on the ground, the world seemed to be closing in on him. 

"Help." He breathed, trying to lift himself up, but to no avail, he was to faint. "Help me." His eyes flicked through the crowds of teenagers who continued walking, completely oblivious to the Winchester.

In his searching gaze, Dean's eyes stopped dead as he spotted someone looking at him. Dean squinted his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to focus his vision, but it kept getting blurrier and blurrier.

The figure was moving forward, walking toward him. The figure took of his hat and Dean recognised him instantly.

It was the boy.

Only he looked quite healthy as he walked through the crowd in a fluid motion, weaving himself through them easily. His face remained emotionless, just staring at Dean with those blue eyes, peering into his soul.

"No." Dean muttered, pushing himself back, his head swaying and his vision darkening as the figure approached. "You're not real." The figure was just a short distance away, Dean's vision was fading quickly. The Winchester tried to move back, to get as far away from the boy as possible. "You can't be." Dean blinked and the boy was just a few meters away. The last thing Dean remembered before he fell into unconsciousness was two blue eyes staring into his and a cold breath on his face. 

"You're just a dream." Dean muttered as he entered a world of darkness.

...............

Dean opened his eyes, they felt heavy. He blinked a few times to adjust his sight. Everything was white and there was an obnoxious beeping noise coming from somewhere.

Where was he?

"Dean." He barely registered someone calling his name, it was muffled by a buzz, but the buzz was fading quickly as the voice became clearer.

"Can you hear me?" It was a woman, she sounded concerned. 

"Wha' goin' on?" Dean asked, he felt dizzy and his head hurt. Finally the world seemed to come into focus and Dean was greeted by a plump old woman with bushy red hair and bright green eyes, it was the school nurse.

"You fell and hit your head." The nurse said. "You have a very minor concussion, nothing to be worried about." She smiled. "I'll go get you some aspirin for the pain."

As she left, Dean clambered out of the bed and over to the sink. He looked in the mirror. His sandy hair was dishevelled and he had slightly dark circles under his eyes and his skin was flushed.

He turned on the hot water, letting it run for a moment as the steam rose up and curled around himself and the mirror. Dean tried to remember what happened. 

Strangely dressed teenagers.

They couldn't see him.

... Except one.

Blue eyes. 

A boy.

The boy.

"No." Dean muttered angrily to himself, "it was just a dream. You have a concussion, you're imagining things." He splashed some water over his face. Dean turned off the taps as grabbed a towel to dry his face. "Just a dream." He dried his face, but something caught his eye in the mirror. Dean's breath caught in his throat. And there was the buzzing again. Dean dropped the towel and backed away from the sink, shaking his head. 

The mirror was coated with condensation, but there was something written in it;

It wasn't a dream.


	4. The Bet

Dean had been on edge as the week past, his skin pale and dark circles under his eyes as the Winchester had not been sleeping well.

He was frightened, confused and, very wisely, avoided Novak Manor. He avoided and diverted conversations about it because he didn't understand what was happening to him.

So he didn't know why he agreed to do it.

That Friday, Alistair and Azazel, the school bullies, had come up to the Winchester and made him a bet. They were twin brother, fraternal, and spent the better half of their days tormenting the other kids at school and humiliating them.

"So, I'll make you a bet Winchester, to you and all of your little friends." Alistair began, smirking as he did so. "Tonight, we, as in your friends and my friends, will spend the night in Novak Manor."

"Dude, that place is haunted." Charlie interjected and Alistair shrugged.

"Afraid of a little wind, Bradbury?" Azazel mocked, but Dean barely acknowledged their argument. 

His mind was racing at the prospect of being in that house, let alone staying in it. He had been tormented that week by something from that house, he was sure. Caught up in his thoughts, he didn't hear Charlie agree to the bet until it was too late.

"See you there." Alistair smirked as he and Azazel turned back around in their seats as their teacher told them off for talking. 

"What did you just do?" Dean hissed at Charlie, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "Charlie... Charlie, there's something in that house!" He whispered harshly.

"Dude, it's nothing, they'll just pull a few pranks to try and scare us." Charlie shrugged and Dean tried to calm himself, she was right.

It was nothing.

○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ●

Charlie, Dean and Meg had went to Luce and Mike's comic book store after school. Sam and Adam had tagged along to see Gabriel and Samandriel again.

"Everything okay, Dean?" Michael asked as Charlie had dragged Meg away to look at comic books and Sam and Adam were talking to their new crushes.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Dean asked, snapping out of his trance like state.

"You don't look fine." Michael commented, assessing the pale skin and dark eyes.

"Just... bad dreams." Dean said, which wasn't a total lie, he had had a few nightmares.

"About...?" Michael pressed and Dean sighed.

"You're not gonna give up, are you?" He asked, raking his hand through his hair and Michael shook his head.

"It's just- I- I- saw something- see things and they're really creeping me out." Dean admitted.

"What do you see?" Michael asked calmly, and Dean felt oddly calm in his presence, he did often. Michael could change the atmosphere of a room full of people to reflect how he was feeling and no one understood how he did it. A room could be full of angry politicians and then they'd be calm, as if they hadn't just been screaming at the top of their lungs. He had that aura of authority.

"A - a boy." Dean hesitated. "Well... he's around my age."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me that this isn't an ordinary boy." 

"He's - uh - Michael, if I tell you something,  promise me you won't laugh." Dean said and Michael nodded.

"I saw something, and it's really creeping me out." Dean began. "It's hard to explain."

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Michael suggested.

"Okay." Dean agreed. "On my first day of school here, I was waiting for Sam in the car and I was watching that old house at the top of the street."

"Novak Manor?" Michael asked and Dean nodded.

"Well, you know how there's a tree beside the house? Yeah, well I saw... a figure of sorts, like someone was standing in the fog." Dean explained. "On the tree and there was a rope and it - he - he jumped."

Michael remained quiet for a short time and Dean already knew that Michael didn't believe a single word he said.

"Sounds like a death echo." Michael murmured.

"Look, I know I sound crazy, I - wait, what?" Dean asked. "A death what?"

"Echo." Michael replied. "It's a type of trapped ghost. The spirit is stuck re-enacting it's death over and over in a loop."

"You don't sound too sure." Dean said.

"Well..." Michael scratched his head in thought. "Death echoes are a product of murder and by your description, this is a suicide."

"How do you know this stuff?" Dean asked.

"Bobby." Michael replied. "He has a lot of books on lore."

"Bobby Singer?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, fifteen years ago, he kind of took me in after my parents left me." Michael explained, a sad smile on his face. "You know him?"

"Family friend." Dean explained, noticing Michael's discomfort about discussing his parents, he decided not to ask any questions. "He's an awesome guy."

"Yeah, he is." Michael agreed. "Do you want to go on with the story?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Well, uh, this boy was in my room and he was a ghost, at least I think he was a ghost. And then I was in school but - but I - I wasn't in school, I was surrounded by teenagers who were dressed funny, in olden day clothes and he was there, watching me. I was sure it was a dream because I woke up in the - the nurse's office but there was a message written in the mirror saying that it wasn't a dream." Dean said in one breath.

"I see." Michael said, look contemplative. "You left something out. The whispering."

Dean's eyes went wide. "How - how do you know about that?" He asked, taking a small step away from Michael.

"You were thinking about it." Michael said.

"Yeah, I was thinking it but I never said it." Dean said, rather loudly.

"Stop creeping him out with your weird psychic thing!" Charlie called from across the room after hearing what Dean had said.

"Stop telling me how to run my life!" Michael called back.

"Psychic? Psychics aren't real." Dean said, more at ease since Charlie knew something.

"I know, tell them that." Michael nodded in the direction of Charlie, Lucifer, Meg, Gabriel and Samandriel. 

"He's a psychic!" Gabriel yelled. "And we're pretty sure that Luci gets off on it!"

"We ship it!" Charlie called.

"And we write naughty fanfiction about it!" They yelled together all the while, Michael shook his head in disapproval. 

"What do they mean?" Dean asked.

"Basically, we think they're a good couple so we write about them having hardcore-" 

"Either of you say another word and you're banned for life." Lucifer said and they both pouted.

"I wasn't talking about the fanfiction." Dean said. "I was talking about the psychic thing."

"He can hear what you're thinking, he's like fucking Charles Xavier!"

"You guys shut up while I talk to Michael!" Dean ordered as he turned back to Michael.

"So the whispering?" Michael continued. 

"Yes. He kind of says something but I don't think it's English. It's like, uh, what does he say?" Dean muttered to himself. "Uh, otkroyte vorota, razbit' steklo, pomogi mne...? I'm sure that's it."

"It's Russian." Michael said. "It's translates to 'open the gates, break the glass, help me'." 

"How do you know tha - wait, why is it in Russian? Was he Russian?" Dean asked.

"No." Michael said. "I'm not sure why he's speaking Russian."

"Maybe I'll find out tonight." Dean sighed, dread overcoming him again.

"Why tonight?" Michael raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm going into Novak Manor." Dean said. 

"If you're really worried about this whole situation, I would recommend spending the night." Michael said sarcastically, giving him a look that clearly stated 'are you fucking kidding me?'.

"Blame Charlie!" Dean said like a five year old, pointing at the redhead.

Charlie head snapped up and she held her in hands up in surrender and confusion. "I'm innocent until proven guilty unless you have legal evidence!" She said, looking around.

Everyone looked at her confused. 

  ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ● ○ ●

Dean shoved his hands deep inside his pockets as he, Charlie and Meg made their way to Novak Manor that night.

They were accompanied by Jo Harvelle and Balthazar Roché, who Dean just assumed were a couple.

"So, what exactly are we going to be doing?" Balthazar asked, lighting another cigarette.

"You know what Azazel and Alistair are like, few pranks here and there." Meg shrugged.

They reached the house where Alistair and Azazel were waiting. They were with Uriel, Dick Roman and Bela Talbot.

Jo pulled Balthazar closer by the waist, not-so-subtly giving Bela the finger when the British girl kept eyeing up her boyfriend.

Dean stood, that feeling of dread settling over him again as he carefully avoided looking at the house, ignoring Charlie and Meg's argument with Azazel and Alistair.

"Y'okay, Dean?" Jo asked, dragging Balthazar over so the three of them could talk. Jo was nice girl, really pretty too, but she terrified the majority of the school because of her fiesty attitude.

"Yeah, just... meh." Dean shrugged. "House gives me the creeps."

"Not alone there." Jo laughed, making Dean smile. She was like the little sister he never had. "I don't even know why they chose this place or even started a dare."

"Because they're insecure about their masculinity, sweetheart." Balthazar explained, making Dean snort. Balthazar may be arrogant and cocky but he was funny too.

"Ready, guys?" Charlie asked, and all three of them nodded.

They made their way up to the gate and the whispering began again.

Otkroyte vorota. 

The same words echoed through Dean's head, getting louder and louder, they were beginning to make Dean's head hurt.

Otkroyte vorota. Otkroyte vorota. Otkroyte vorota. 

Open the gate! Open the gate! Open the gate! Dean begged in his head, wincing at the loudness of the screaming in his mind.

Dean shoved Azazel out of the way and roughly pushed the gate open.

The voice stopped.

It was so sudden. Gone just like that.

"Let's go." Charlie said, taking Meg's hand as everyone made their way up to the house.

Dean remained still for a moment. There was a soft whisper in his mind now, it was almost reassuring.

Ya budu zashchishchat' tebya.

But despite the calm reassurance of the voice, dread still washed over the Winchester because he could have sworn that he had heard a man laugh when the gates were open. 

Not a kind laugh, a hollow cruel laugh.

"C'mon, Dean!" Meg called, waving him over to the door, where they were all standing.

Dean never noticed the boy standing in the window watching him, nor did he notice the man and woman in the other window watching him, either.


	5. Chapter 5

The house was cold and dark. The first things anyone would notice when they walked into a house that had been abandoned for years. 

There was a deafening silence, which was to be expected, but it was too silent. There was no skittering of mice and there were no sounds of any movement, not even the light wind whirling around outside.

Webs hung at every corner of the house, on wooden doors, the grimy windows, the stairway. Everywhere.

Shadows seemed to appear everywhere, watching them silently as though they were waiting to strike.

"So, uh, what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked, breaking the eerie silence.

"Whoever stays the longest wins." Chalrie replied. The bet was the losing side would have to pay a hundred dollars to the winning side. 

"So we just have to walk around and who ever does a runner first loses out on a hundred dollars?" Balthazar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Alistair replied. 

...............

Dean had decided to look around on his own. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea but Balthazar and Jo had went on their own, giggling and flirting as they did so and Meg and Charlie were arguing with Alistair and Azazel again. He didn't really want to stick around with Bela, Dick and Uriel.

He climbed the stairs, ignoring the creaking noises his feet made against the wood. He wandered down the hall, drawn to the room at the very bottom of the hall.

He pushed the door open slowly and made his way inside. It was a large room, with huge windows that overlooked the front garden and the entire street. 

It was odd, the room seemed... familiar, like he had been in here before. He shook his head, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling of déjà vu.

He looked around, it was a bedroom. The bed was unmade and collecting dust. He sat down on the edge, sinking slightly into the mattress. He would sit here, and wait it out.

He sat for a short while before he grew bored, so he got up and looked around the room. There was a framed, black and white picture sitting on the desk in the far corner.  He took it out of it's frame to get a better look. It was the boy, standing between a man and a woman, presumably his parents.  They were standing outside the house, and the old willow tree was visible behind them.

Dean turned the picture over in his hands. There was writing on the back. The writing was neat and cursive.

30th June, 1925

Castiel has been spending most of his days under that God forsaken tree. He seems to be contemplating something important, he constantly writes in that journal of his. Oh, how I wish he would speak to me.

Naomi

Dean frowned. Who was Naomi? He pulled open the drawer, it was full of pictures. He lifted out another one. It was of Castiel and Naomi, Dean assumed. He turned it over and read the handwritten note.

2nd July, 1925

Why has God forsaken me? He has taken my only child from me. Oh, Castiel, what have you done? You have angered him. My heart cannot bear your passing. I long for you to come back.

Naomi

July 2nd, 1925, Dean thought. That was the day after Castiel committed suicide. Who did he anger?

Dean shuffled through the old photos, sitting down at the desk and reading them.

April 21st, 1925

I fear of what will become of Castiel if he continues to argue with his father.

Naomi

Dean picked up another, the writing was messy, as though the writer's hand had been shaking. There were a few stains on it and Dean knew that they were tears.

August 15th, 1925

My dearest Castiel, how I miss you so. I wish I could see your face just once more. Home is never the same without you.

Naomi

Dean continued to read through them, they were all from the same person, they were either before or after Castiel's death. Some were happy, like Castiel's birthday and whatnot, but the rest exclaimed grief and longing for a mother's lost son. 

It was odd, while reading them, Dean was entranced. He felt as though he were there when the events occurred. He continued to read them, engaged in the stories. He was so engaged that he almost missed the jazz music that flowed through the room.

Wait, Dean thought. Jazz music? He stood up and carefully approached the bedroom door. It must be one of Alistair or Azazel's pranks, he tried to comfort himself. He opened the bedroom door and there was a flash of white light.

Dean stumbled into the hallways,dots appearing in his vision. He blinked rapidly and then looked around him. He froze.

Had he fainted? It was suddenly daytime. The sun shone throughout the house, lighting it up, but there were no cobwebs or creaking floorboards. The house looked relatively new and clean. The jazz music was louder and laughter and chattering could be heard coming from downstairs.

He contemplated going back into the bedroom, but decided against and made his way down the hall.

He stopped and looked in the mirror. He sure as hell hadn't come into this house wearing suspenders. He wore a white dress shirt, the sleeves were rolled up and a few buttons were undone. He was wearing dress pants and his hair was gelled to the side.

"What the hell?" Dean murmured, staring at his reflection. He slowly and cautiously made his way down the stairs, where were Balthazar and Jo? And Charlie and Meg? Where the hell was he?

The chattering grew louder and he stopped the foot of the stairs. There were people here, they were laughing and dancing in the large hall and the living room. A few even smiled and waved at Dean. Dean took a deep breath, trying his best not to panic.

He made his way through the crowds of people and into the living room. He stopped dead. Michael and Lucifer were there. Michael was sitting at a table, tarot cards in his hands and a woman sat opposite him, listening intently to his words, panic written across her face. Lucifer was playing the piano, the source of the music. 

Dean looked around, Balthazar and Jo were sitting on the couch together and Charlie and Meg, too. They were dressed funny, the girls wore feathers in their hair and fancy dresses the man all wore the same clothes as Dean himself.

He backed away from the couch and fell back, luckily he landed on one chair.

"Hello, Dean." Michael smiled at him from across the small table.

"Michael." Dean said. "What the hell is going on?" 

"What? You mean the party?" Michael asked, raising am eyebrow. "You of all people should know." He said, taking a draw from his cigar. "Castiel's birthday? Were you drinking last night?" Michael asked after Dean didn't reply.

Dean didn't know what was going on. I better play along, Dean thought. "Just a little." He lied.

"I'd better find... Castiel, wish him a happy birthday." Dean excused himself, ignoring the odd look Michael gave him.

He really is a psychic, Dean thought as leaned against the wall in the empty hallway. Before he had a chance to wrap his head around things, he was being dragged down the hallway and up the stairs by the hand. They reached a room and the door was slammed shut behind him.

Before be could even say anything, a pair of arms wrapped around him and hesitantly returned the hug.

"You made it!" The person said and Dean discovered that it was a boy.

"I - yeah, I made it." Dean said and the boy pulled away from him. Dean froze. 

It was the boy. 

The boy. 

The one that had been haunting him. 

It was Castiel. 

"H - happy birthday." Dean said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Ugh, don't remind me." Castiel rolled his eyes, pulling Dean in for another hug. "I just want this day to be over." He said, his voice muffled agaisnt Dean's shirt.

Castiel sighed as he made his way over to the window, looking out it. The sun shone on him, illuminating his pale skin and his eyes were brighter than ever. 

He looked beautiful, Dean thought. Almost like an angel.

"Dean, do you remember the promise you made me?" Castiel asked quietly.

"Uh... sure." Dean lied, confused. "Um... which - which one again?" 

To his relief, Castiel laughed gently. "You promised that when I turned seventeen, we would run away together." Castiel reminded him. 

"I did." Dean replied, glad that it didn't come out sounding like a question.

"Well, you're already seventeen and I turned seventeen today." Castiel said slowly. "Dean, will you still run away with me?"

"Have I ever broken my promises to you?" Dean asked and a smile crept onto Castiel's features. Dean felt as though there was someone else inside him talking to Castiel, someone who was quite familiar with him. "We'll move to a new city and we'll change our names to Jensen and Misha. We'll have a happy life together. We'll protect each other, because that's all we'll have but that's all we'll need."

"Ya budu zashchishchat' tebya." Castiel smiled, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist.

That was the whisper he heard when he opened the gate. "What does that mean?" Dean asked. 

"I will protect you." Castiel said, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. "It's Russian."

"Why Russian?" Dean asked.

"I decided to learn it." Castiel shrugged. "You know how father feels about communism, he wouldn't learn Russian even if his life depended on it. I can curse at him and write secret messages and he wouldn't think twice about it." Castiel said, heavily emphasising the word 'father', his tone mocking.

"Good thing we're leaving then, huh?" Dean joked and Castiel grinned at him.

"I love you, Dean." Castiel said.

"I love you too, Cas." Dean replied and Castiel leaned up and  placed a kiss on Dean's lips.

They broke apart when Castiel was called downstairs. Castiel excused himself and left the room.

There was another flash of white light and Dean found himself back in the dark, cold room. He looked around, he was seated at the desk, holding a photo. It was of Castiel again. Dean turned it around and read it.

25th June, 1925

Castiel turned seventeen today. My son is growing up. He seemed so happy. He said that he was just speaking with Dean. I haven't seen him smile like that in a while. I trust Dean to take care of him. I know he will.

Naomi

Dean frowned. He hadn't kept his promise to Castiel. He had broken his promise. 

He looked through the drawer and found an old journal. It had a leather cover and the pages were yellowing. Written on the front was Castiel's Journal.

Dean flipped to a random page and read from it.

25th January, 1925

I will be seventeen this year. I hope Dean will keep his promise. Father's beatings are becoming unbearable, they are almost a daily occurrence now. He hates Dean, I just know it, but I will never allow him to harm Dean. I also have been trying to do my best to protect mother from his wrath. She may do her best for me but he is a cruel, bastard.

Castiel

Dean read it  again and again. Castiel was abused by his father. He turned to the next page but suddenly, the pages flipped over by themselves. Dean let go of the journal as it landed on a clean page.

Hurried writing began to appear on the page, the ink smeared on the page as words began to form.

7th April, 2015

GO, DEAN! RUN! HE'S COMING FOR YOU!

Castiel

And Dean did just that, he grabbed the journal and pictures, shoving them into his jacket pocket and ran from the room. He bumped in Azazel and Alistair in the hallway.

"Winchester, chickening out?" They smirked and Dean stopped.

"We have to get out of here." Dean exclaimed, gasping for breath. Dean expected the to say no but the look on his face must have convinced them otherwise.

"W - why?" Azazel demanded.

He's co-" Dean froze. "He's here." He whispered and the two boys spun around and paled considerable.

Zachariah Novak was standing in front of them.

"I told you, Dean," Zachariah said, his voice was as cold as ice and a knife appeared in his hands. "I didn't want to see your face ever again. Castiel isn't going anywhere." He charged at them, Dean shut his eyes, waiting for the blow but it never came. Instead there was a loud crash and he was pulled back.

Dean's eyes snapped open and Zachariah was laying on the ground at the bottom of the hall. Dean spun around but there was no one around. He didn't know who or what had pulled him out of the way but he was thankful.

"Go, Dean! I can only hold him off for so long. Run!" A voice whispered in his mind and Dean nodded, grabbing a shocked Alistair and Azazel by the arms and dragging them down the stairs.

On his path, he ran into everybody else. "Get out of here!" He yelled, ushering them out of the door. By the looks on their faces, Dean knew that something was behind him.

Zachariah was chasing him, he was at the top of the stairs. Everyone sprinted, ignoring Zachariah yelling.

"I WILL GET YOU, DEAN!" Zachariah screamed as he chased them. 

They shut the door behind them and ran down towards the gates. One they were outside of the garden, the gates slammed shut by themselves. Dean took deep, shaky breaths, his heart thumping violently in his chest. 

Castiel was standing behind the gates. His pale, ghostly figure watching Dean as the other backed away.

"Ya budu zashchishchat' tebya." Castiel said, it was gentle and it was the same voice that had told him to run.

"I will protect you." Dean whispered, remembering the encounter, real or not, with Castiel. "After all this time?" Dean asked and Castiel smiled sadly.

"Always." Castiel replied and then he disappeared.

Dean backed away from the house as all of the teenagers made their way down the street, neither of them saying a word.

"We have to make a promise guys." Charlie said and they all stopped. "We have to promise that we tell no one what happened in that house, alright?" She said.

"And we never go back to that house." Alistair added.

They all put their hands together. "I promise." They said.

They separated and made their way home into the dark night and Dean was in deep thought.

When he went to bed that night, he sat and read through the journal. A memory flashing through his mind at different times. 

"Well, looks like I'm gonna have to break another promise." Dean muttered to himself as he turned off his bedside lamp and lay down. He was going to go back into that house.

He was going to save Castiel.


	6. A Psychic's Version of the iPhone 6

Later in the night, Dean opened up Sam's laptop, the bright light illuminating the dark room. He went on to the internet and thought about what to search.

"Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester..." He muttered as he typed the words. He hit search and the results came up.

Most were about Castiel Novak but none were Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester. He searched through them until one title caught his eyes.

...Castiel Novak and Dean Smith...

Dean clicked on it and an old newspaper article came up. He couldn't make out what the writing said but it was the picture that made his jaw drop.

He was in the picture. 

He stood next to Castiel smiling and then the other picture was writing on the back of the picture of him and Castiel.

He couldn't make out the writing either. He sighed as he continued to read through the website. 

Dean sat back and thought. Did he need to contact Castiel? How the hell would he do that? Dean turned off the laptop and set it aside, turning off his bedside lamp. He knew that there were people that could allegedly talk to the dead. How was he supposed to find someone like that? He scrambled his mind for what to do until he realised something.

................

"MICHAEL!" Dean called as he slammed the comic book store door open and Michael gave him a questioning look.

"Dean." Michael replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You're a psychic, right?" Dean asked, and without waiting for an answer he continued. "Great, you can talk to the dead guy." 

"Excuse me?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, the dead guy, Castiel, so he was like my boyfriend back in the day and now he's dead and sad. He could do with somebody to talk to. Plus, I think he likes you, I mean, he did invite you to his birthday party." Dean explained without stopping for breath.

"Excuse me?" Michael repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Dean opened up his bag and emptied the contents onto the desk. A crystal ball rolled out, a few candles and a cloth.

"What is this?" Michael asked, gesturing to the mess in front of him.

"A psychic's version of the iPhone 6." Dean replied.

.........................

"Dean, this is ridiculous. I am not, nor have I ever been, a psychic." Michael said as Dean turned off the lights in the back room.

"Aha, that's where you're wrong." Dean said, placing the crystal ball in front of Michael. "You have been a psychic."

"When have I ever been a psychic?" Michael all but snapped at the Winchester.

"The 25th of June, 1925." Dean replied, sitting down on the floor across from Michael. "Castiel's seventeenth birthday, you were doing tarot card readings and crystal ball gazing and Lucifer was playing the piano and everything."

"Dean, I think your lack of sleep is starting to take it's toll on you." Michael commented.

"Please, Michael, just try." Dean begged.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Michael asked.

"He can talk to me but I can't talk to him, I've tried. I think that he thinks that I'm the same Dean that he was in love with like ninety years ago." Dean said. "Just do this for me?"

"Dean, I can't do this." Michael said. "I'm not a psychic."

"Your mum was." Dean said. "I asked Bobby and he said yes. Her name was Pamela and she was a psychic, according to Bobby, talking to spirits was, like, her thing."

"That doesn't prove anything." Michael said.

"The other thing she could do was read people's thoughts." Dean said. "You can do that, can't you? Why can't you do this?"

"Fine." Michael sighed. "But nothing is going to happen."

They sat for a while and Michael stared at the ball. Nothing happened.

"There's another way." Dean said, rolling the ball across the floor and taking Michael's hands in his own. Michael looked down at the odd symbols on the cloth and looked up at Dean with a raised eyebrow."Part of a summoning ritual. Talk to him." Dean said.

Michael sighed and closed his eyes. "Castiel, are you here?" Michael asked, shrugging as he couldn't think of a better question.

Dean watched Michael's facial expression go from bored to his eyes snapping open and him looking around the room.

"Was that you?" Michael asked Dean.

"Was what me?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's Castiel. What's he saying?"

Michael closed his eyes again. "There's something interfering with the call. Who's Zachariah? He trying to block me or something. Dude, get out of the way, let me talk to your dead son, damn it.“

"Ignore Zachariah, just focus on Castiel." Dean ordered as the candle flames began to waver and dim down.

"He's - he's trapped... he's trying to tell me something... don't trust them... the amulet... the amulet will protect... mendax... help me... the picture... break the glass..."

Wind started to pick up in the room and the candles blew out.

"Michael, break the connection!" Dean called. "Michael!

Michael's eyes flew open and the wind died down almost immediately. Dean hurriedly got up and switched on the lights

"I - I was there." Michael said. "In 1925. August 26th, 1925. I was killed. Lucifer was killed, too. It was all so real.

"What?" Dean asked. "It was real, Michael, but why were you killed? What happened?"

"We were in a house and we went down to the basement and we saw him - we saw Castiel, and then he tried to tell us something but Zachariah killed us. I don't understand." Michael said, placing his head in his hands.  
"You saw Castiel's ghost?" Dean asked and Michael shook his head.

"Castiel was alive." Michael said and Dean looked confused.

"Why did Zachariah kill you then?" Dean asked and Michael frowned

"Dean, I saw Castiel on August 26th, 1925 and he was alive." Michael said. "And according to history, Castiel died two months before that date.“

..............

Dean was pacing around the couch. Pacing like he had never paced before. He didn't have enough room to pace, in his opinion.

“Where did I go? Why did I abandon him? Did his family fake his death?“ Dean muttered. He then thought back to the pictures Naomi had written on and frowned.

She wasn't involved, Dean decided.

“What happened, Cas?“ Dean asked out loud. “Tell me something - anything - how am I supposed to help you?“ He let out a frustrated sigh and decided that he couldn't work on an empty stomach.

On his way to the kitchen, he walked past the basement door but stopped in his tracks.

It was cold. 

Dean took several steps back from the cold spot and felt his heart hammering against his chest when the basement door handle began to rattle. 

Dean's breath stopped, the only sounds he could hear were the rattles of the door handle and his own heart pounding in his chest.  
o  
Suddenly, the rattling stopped and the door's lock clicked before it slowly began to open itself

Dean was frozen in place as a wave of cold air passed right through him. He swallowed hard as the coldness directed him towards the basement. “No way buddy, I've watched enough horror movies to know what happens to the idiot that goes into the basement.“ Dean said nervously.

Another cold wave passedi through him and he slowly made his way over to the door, his entire body shaking slightly

The image of a woman flashed through Dean's mind. He recognised her from the pictures.

It was Naomi

It was almost as if a clip was playing in slow motion in his head. Dean wanted to warn her - but he didn't know what he had to warn her about

She was screaming at someone. “What have you done with my son?“ Dean barely made it out, it was like her screams were being muffled.

Suddenly Dean's mind went blank, it was filled with complete and utter darkness, but there were people screaming and crying.

YOU'RE HURTING HER! STOP IT! STOP HURTING HER!

Dean recognised the voice. It was Castiel but he couldn't see him or help him. Dean was clutching his head, willing the voices to go away.

Another image flashed through Dean's mind. There was a close up of a staircase. A pair of expensive looking shoes slowly walked down them and were followed by a pair of heels, but the heels were kicking wildly and hitting off of every stair.

There was darkness again. Castiel was screaming again.

LET HER GO! DON'T HURT HER

There was loud crash. Someone had been knocked to the ground. There was a sound of dragging and struggling. Somone was gasping for air. There was a creaking sound, like an old stool.

Silence.

Dean stopped breathing for a moment, the darkness disappeared. The pair of heel-clad feet were hanging in mid air, swaying back and forth slowly. Below them, Castiel lay unconscious on the ground, blood seeping from a cut on his head.

Dean couldn't breathe, the silence of the room was broken only by a pair of feet walking up the stairs and the slamming of door. The room was filled with darkness and then the door's lock clicked shut.

A bright light filled the room and Dean looked around him. He was lying on the floor, breathing heavily, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He slowly stood up, and looked around once more. The basement door was closed

On shaky legs, Dean made his way back to the living room. So many questions ran through his head.

If Naomi had died the year after Castiel's alleged death with her husband, how come she had oholo just been hung in his basement?

Who killed her?

Why was Castiel locked in his basement?

Dean swayed for second and then threw up, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor before he collapsed on the couch, falling unconscious.


	7. The Story of Cain Primum

"Dean? Dean?" 

 

Dean groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He was automatically hit with the smell of vomit and his mouth tasted awful. He made a noise of disgust before he realised that someone was shaking him and calling his name.

 

"Sammy?" Dean grumbled, his head pounding. "What happened?"

 

"I don't know, man, I came in and found you passed out on the couch with vomit all over the floor." Sam sounded concerned as he helped Dean sit up.

 

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean sighed tiredly, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in them.

 

"What's been up with you lately, Dean?" Sam asked as he sat down on the arm of the chair.

 

Dean glanced towards the basement before shrugging nonchalantly and shaking his head. "Nothing," he mumbled.

 

"Why are you looking at the basement?" Sam questioned.

 

"No reason," Dean shrugged again.

 

"Really?" Sam asked as he stood up and Dean's eyes followed him as he walked towards the basement. 

 

"What are you doing?" Dean asked. "Sam, get away from the basement."

 

"No, why?" Sam asked, turning the handle slowly.

 

"Just get away from it, Sam." Dean commanded, his heart race speeding up, but Sam opened the door anyway and peaked inside before turning back to Dean, with a raised eyebrow. Dean felt his heart slow down a little as he turned to look at the empty TV screen, watching Sam in the reflection. Maybe he had imagined it, after all. Maybe there was nothing in the basement. 

 

Sam shook his head. "What is wrong with you, man?"

 

"Just tired, Sammy," Dean replied, shaking his head but stopped when he looked in the TV screen. 

 

Someone - someone that didn't look quite human - was standing next to Sam at the basement door.

 

"Sam," Dean's voice was dangerously soft as he stood up slowly, and Sam picked up that something was wrong immediately. 

 

Sam tensed and swallowed hard. "What?" 

 

Dean, never looking away from Sam's reflection and the stranger, replied slowly, "get away from the door".

 

"Why?" Sam questioned.

 

"Just do it," Dean stated. He watched in horror as the person, who had remained as still as statue up until this point, let out an inhumane shriek as it grabbed Sam and dragged him into the basement, slamming the door shut.

 

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled, bolting towards the door and pulling the handle but the door was locked.

 

"DEAN!" He could hear Sam calling for him, sounding terrified and panicked, and Dean started to kick and shove the door.

 

"Sammy!" Dean cried, shoving himself against the door so hard he was certain he had dislocated his shoulder. He threw himself against the door with all of his force one last time before he felt himself tumbling down a flight of stairs in a flash of white light.

 

"Are you okay?" A disembodied voice asked, all high-pitched and concerned.

 

"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice squeaky, looking up at the blurry silhouette. Dean focused his eyes and was met with a pair of wide, blue curious eyes.

 

"No, I'm Castiel." The blue eyes replied. 

 

Dean looked at him properly - he couldn't have been older than six, with his messy black hair and rosy cheeks.

 

"Cas - Castiel?" Dean stammered, reaching up to sooth his growing headache, however, he stopped when he looked down at his hands. They were tiny. He looked down at his body - he was tiny. Was he stuck in the body of a six year old? 

 

"Yes and you're bleeding." Castiel replied, pointing to a gash on Dean's forehead.

 

"Where's Sammy?" Dean ignored him.

 

"I... don't know who Sammy is," Castiel replied.

 

"Where am I?" Dean demanded. 

 

"Uh... in the street?" Castiel suggested weakly. "What's your name?"

 

"Dean Wi-" A thought occurred to Dean, and he remembered the article, 'Castiel Novak and Dean Smith', "... Smith. Dean Smith."

 

"I'm Castiel Novak." Castiel smiled at him.

 

"Okay, Cas, I - I need your help to find my little brother." Dean stated and Castiel nodded. "Okay, where's my house?" Dean asked, allowing Castiel to help him stand up. Castiel shrugged as Dean looked around, spotting his house. 

 

"There it is, c'mon, Cas," Dean dragged him. Although he seemed confident on the outside, Dean was internally panicking - what happened to Sam? Where was he? When was he? How was he supposed to get home? What the hell was happening to him?

 

"Um, Dean?" Castiel asked, nervously.

 

"What?" Dean asked, dragging him with him.

 

"Nobody lives in those houses." He stated and Dean stopped.

 

"Oh," Dean stopped, looking down at his feet.

 

"Are you lost?" Castiel asked.

 

"You have no idea." Dean mumbled.

 

"Then let's go to the carnival!" Castiel smiled at him.

 

"Why the carnival?" Dean asked.

 

"Sheriff Mills is there, she can help you." Castiel stated and pulled Dean along with him. "Do you know that she is the first woman to join the police in town?" 

 

As they walked, Dean kept glancing back to, what he he thought was, his house as Castiel chattered in his ear.

 

"That's a cool necklace." Dean commented as they walked.

 

"Oh," Castiel looked down at the amulet he was wearing and then smiled at Dean, "thanks. It's an amulet. My mum gave it to me, she said it protects me from evil spirits."

 

"Cool," Dean commented.

 

"We're here!" Castiel declared after a good twenty minutes of walking. Dean looked up to see the carnival, busting with people and laughing kids. "C'mon," Castiel grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him inside.

 

"Oh, look there's Pamela! She's a psychic, my dad doesn't believe in it but I think she could be for real - hi, Michael!" Castiel yelled and Dean looked up to see a boy, around eleven or twelve sitting at a small, round table behind a crystal ball.

 

"Hello, Castiel. Who's your friend?" Michael greeted, smiling at them.

 

"This is Dean Smith, we're looking for Sheriff Mills." Castiel said. "Have you seen her?"

 

"She's helping Ellen out with the food stands, you'll have to wait." Michael said.

 

"Can you wait, Dean?" Castiel asked, climbing up onto the chair apposite Michael.

 

"Um, sure." Dean replied as he climbed up next to Castiel, his mind cluttered with thoughts of Sam.

 

"Is your mum giving a tarot card reading?" Castiel asked Michael, who nodded. "Can you tell us our future, Michael?" 

 

"I'm not a psychic." Michael replied. 

 

"Pretend." Castiel shrugged and Michael smiled, shaking his head before he looked into the crystal ball.

 

"In your future, Castiel, I see unicorns and..." The smile slowly faded from Michael's face as he looked into the crystal ball, his eyes flickered to Castiel and then Dean.

 

"What?" Castiel asked, peering into the crystal ball. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, there's your mum, Castiel, I think she's looking for you." Michael stated, pointing to Castiel's mother in the crowds of people.

 

"I'll be right back, Dean. Wait here." Castiel smiled as he hopped off of the chair and made his way over to Naomi.

 

"Who are you?" Michael asked, and Dean looked up to meet his eyes.

 

"My name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." Dean replied sarcastically (although in the body of a six year old it wasn't as cool as he intended) before he sighed. "What did you see?" 

 

"I saw Castiel... and you. Growing up together. Falling in love. And then I saw you leaving. And then I saw Castiel... dead." Michael replied. 

 

"All that from a glass ball?" Dean replied.

 

"Yes, Dean." Michael replied. "All that from a glass ball." 

 

"So much for not being a psychic, huh?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

"I'm just going to give you a warning, Dean," Michael said. "Of what I've seen. There is something wrong with this town, and Castiel is right at the centre of it. The people in this town aren't... right."

 

"What do you mean? What should I do?" Dean asked, straightening up a little.

 

"Leave." Michael stated. "Leave and never come back."

 

"Dean?" Dean heard a faint cry and his head snapped around to look where it was coming from.

 

"Sammy?" Dean yelled as he scrambled out of his seat and followed Sam's voice, running as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving the carnival behind. He ran as fast as he could, despite the aching stitch in his side and his need to stop for breath until he stopped outside, what he believed was, his house. 

 

Dean forced the door open and raced inside to the basement door, pulling it open and bolting inside. However, as soon as he stopped through the door there was a flash of white light.

 

.............

 

"Dean?" 

 

Dean recognised someone calling his name as well as an irritating beeping in his ears.

 

"Mum? Dad?" He asked, opening his eyes tiredly to see his parents sitting on chairs beside him, looking tired and worried. "What happened?"

 

"You - you fell down a flight of stairs into the basement," John said. "You're in hospital."

 

"Oh," Dean said, "where's Sam?"

 

"He and Adam are with Bobby," Mary reassured him, squeezing his hand.

 

"Is he okay?" Dean asked, as memories of what happened to him flooded into his mind.

 

"He's pretty shaken up, he said he found you in the basement - passed out and lying in your own blood." Mary said. "What happened?"

 

"I - I went down to the basement to look for something and I must've fallen." Dean shrugged, although he instantly regretted it as pain shot through his shoulder.

 

"Whoa, easy there, tiger. You broke your shoulder." Mary said. "And you have a few stitches."

 

"Sam and Adam are on their way over now." John said as he put his phone back into his pocket.

 

"Right, we'll go get you something to eat, give you a little quiet time until Sam and Adam get here." Mary pecked his cheek as she and John left to get him food.

 

Dean's mind felt so cluttered but one thing was sticking out amongst his mess of thoughts, "leave and never come back".

 

............

 

"So, idiot, how'd you manage to fall down the stairs?" Adam asked as he entered the room, followed by a pale and silent Sam.

 

"Tripped, I guess." Dean replied. As they talked for a while, Sam didn't say much until Adam left to go to the bathroom.

 

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked quietly. "Something - something grabbed me and dragged me into the basement - I should've just listened to you." He sighed, burying his face in his hands. 

 

"You were hardly going to know what happened - how did you get out?" Dean asked.

 

"You're not gonna believe me if I tell you." Sam mumbled.

 

"Try me," Dean challenged.

 

"Someone fought whatever grabbed me, okay?" Sam sighed. "He was like seventeen, really pale, with black hair and cuts all over him. He - he fought the...thing. What's going on, Dean? What's happening to us?"

 

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean said honestly, heaving a sigh. "I just don't know."

 

"He - this guy - he - he told me something." Sam said. "Something about an amulet and a - a spiritum mendacii, I think. What does that mean?"

 

"I don't know." Dean said although a voice rang in his mind, "it's an amulet. My mum gave it to me, she said it protects me from evil spirits."

 

...............

 

Dean remained in hospital for the next few weeks, with no sign of Castiel or ghosts - other than in his dreams. His thoughts were plagued with horrible images and he was afraid. Many people had visited him but none could take his mind off of the impending sense of trouble he felt coming.

 

When he returned home, he dropped his bags off in the living room before hurriedly making his way out the door again, followed by a persistent Sam and Adam, despite his parents' protest.

 

"I told you two to stay in the house." Dean said, looking in the rear view mirror at his brothers. He winced a little as pain shot through his shoulder.

 

"Are you sure you should be driving? Your shoulder hasn't fully healed yet." Adam asked, and Dean glared at him.

 

"We want to see Bobby." Sam said, crossing his arms. The younger Winchester had been on edge since the incident, however, he and Dean had refrained from speaking about it, especially around Adam or their parents. 

 

"You've had plenty of time to see Bobby - ah!" Dean yelped, causing him to lose control of the wheel and swerve on the road, which was - thankfully - empty. Regaining his composure, he took control of the wheel again. Although he was extremely tense, "you guys okay?" He asked his brothers wearily, swallowing hard.

 

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, seating himself back in his seat properly. 

 

"Just - just shoulder pain, caught me off guard." Dean lied, his whole body tense because he was there.

 

Castiel was sitting next to him in the passenger seat. 

 

Having appeared out of nowhere, he was as pale as ever and staring straight ahead out the window, as still as a statue.

 

Dean's eyes flickered in the mirror, where Sam and Adam were murmuring amongst themselves, casting worried glances at Dean and completely oblivious to the new guest in the car.

 

Dean's grip was tight on the wheel that his knuckles were turning white. Casting quick, worried glances to his side, Dean watched Castiel suspiciously. 

 

He remained there during the drive, silent and still, staring straight ahead until suddenly, faster than humanly possible, his hand was on the driving wheel and he yanked it to the left, sending the car spiraling to the left. 

 

Sam and Adam yelled in surprise again, clinging to each other as the car came to a swerved and came to a sudden halt in front of the cemetery they had been driving along.

 

Castiel disappeared from the car and reappeared in front of the gate, staring at it with a blank look on his face.

 

"Will you stop doing that?" Adam demanded, breathing heavily.

 

"Why are we here?" Sam asked, looking around, confused.

 

Debating whether or not to drive away as fast as he could, Dean sighdd. "Just - just wait here." Getting out of the car, Dean followed Castiel into the cemetery. They walked for a while until they came to a stop in front of an old, rotting mausoleum. It had to be hundreds of years old.

 

Dean looked at Castiel, who pointed to an inscription above the door. 

 

Here lies the Primum family.

 

It was followed by something written in latin. Dean frowned and Castiel gestured for Dean to go forward. 

 

"No way, c'mon, that things full of dead people." Dean sighed, however, Castiel just nodded towards the door again. 

 

Dean took a deep breath and went to push the door open. It opened with a loud creak, a few spiders falling from the top of it and cobwebs draping from it. Dean shuddered. 

 

He hated spiders.

 

Dean looked around the place, it was covered with cobwebs and spiders and dust. Ugh.

 

Castiel drifted by him to a wall where there were four names were carved into identical squares on the wall. Dean automatically shuddered, that was where they put the coffins.

 

The four names read:

 

Adam Primum

 

Eve Primum 

 

Abel Primum 

 

Cain Primum 

 

Castiel pointed to the name Cain, and gestured for Dean to open it.

 

"Cas," Dean whined and Castiel remained passive, gesturing the name once again. "This is the worst date ever." Dean joked half-heartedly before reluctantly opening it, however, he found it empty.

 

"It's empty." Dean pointed out the obvious and Castiel nodded slowly. "Which means that he was never buried here... but he was supposed to - alright, can't you talk?"

 

Castiel shook his head.

 

"But - but you told me to run." Dean defended weakly. Castiel looked away from him before presenting his arm to Dean. Although vaguely transparent, Dean made out long gashes on the spirit's arm.

 

"This happened when you spoke to me?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded. "What - why? How? Who?" Dean demanded and suddenly a memory flashed across his mind:

 

Dean trailed his fingers softly along Castiel's arm, assessing the deep, purple bruises along the pale skin. "Who did this to you?" Dean demanded angrily, and Castiel looked down at his feet. "It was your father, wasn't it?"

 

Castiel nodded silently, with a quiet, "yes".

 

"I'll kill him." Dean growled.

 

"Your dad did this?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded, but then pointed to the name Cain. 

 

"He did it to?" Dean asked, confused.

 

Castiel nodded.

 

"But - but he - but - am I going to have to do research?" Dean sighed and Castiel nodded before drifting back through the mausoleum door. Dean followed, only to find Castiel gone. Kicking some dirt on his way down the path, Dean sighed. Paranormal adolescence was so hard.

 

..............

 

"I've been waitin' for you boys to call in and see me." Bobby greeted as Dean hugged him. Bobby Singer was a good friend of the Winchesters, and owned Singer's Autoparts. He had a greying scruffy beard and always wore a cap, and warm, kind eyes despite his usual sarcastic self. 

 

"Hey, Bobby," Dean smiled. "How are ya?"

 

"I'm fine, boy, how's you?" Bobby asked, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

 

"I'm..." Dean trailed off, unsure. Bobby was the one that Dean often confided in when he was younger. "I don't know how I am, Bobby." Dean sighed.

 

"What's the matter, son?" Bobby asked, a concerned frown dawning in his features.

 

"Nothing, nothing, it's just - have you ever heard of Cain Primum?" Dean asked and Bobby looked a little confused but nodded anyway.

 

"Yeah, here - I think I have a book on his family, actually." Bobby said and gestured for Dean to follow him. They entered Bobby's office, which was cluttered and messy. Shelves upon shelves of books - mostly lore - made the room seem smaller than it was. Bobby started searching through the shelves as Dean took a seat on his desk.

 

"Who were the Primum family anyway?" Dean asked curiously.

 

"First family on this land. They owned the whole town." Bobby replied. "There was Adam and Eve, and their sons, Cain and Abel. Pretty religious, I'd guess. Apparently Adam and Eve had been banished or whatever from their hometown for practicing witchcraft - although that was a pretty light sentence, y'know, because they lived in the time of witch trials." Bobby explained, and Dean nodded. "Ah, here it is." Bobby pulled a book down from the shelf and flicked through it and scanned a few lines. "Here we go - Cain killed his brother because he was jealous that his brother was preferred by the people of the town." Bobby summarised. "They used to live in that place - what do you call it?" Bobby muttered. 

 

"Novak Manor?" Dean suggested.

 

"That's it." Bobby nodded. "Whole lot of freaky crap went on in that house. First the slave massacre and then them Novaks."

 

"The what? The slave massacre?" Dean asked. "What the hell is that?"

 

"Cain Primum slaughtered hundreds of slaves on his land. Kept them in cages in the basement and tortured them until they barely looked human." Bobby said.

 

"Why wasn't he buried in his family mausoleum?" Dean asked. 

 

"He was murdered. Something happened - the slaves he had imprisoned somehow got out and ripped him to shreds." Bobby said, scratching his beard. "Never found his body."

 

"And what about the Novaks?" Dean prompted, taking in the new information. 

 

"Well, apparently these slaves cursed Cain to live in that house with the tortured spirits for all eternity." Bobby explained.

 

"What's that got to do with the Novaks?" Dean questioned.

 

"Well, skip forward a few hundred years. Nobody ever tried to claim the land because it was thought to be cursed - that was until the Novaks moved in. Bought the whole town in the early 1900s. Rebuilt the place, and more people moved in.

 

There were three of them. Zachariah, Naomi, and their son, Castiel. Rumour has it that Cain possessed Zachariah because he was evil, but they were both so evil that they shared that body.

 

Both Zachariah and Cain hated the son, Castiel. Castiel was like an angel, apparently, helping the homeless, doing charity work - a great kid, basically. Everyone in town loved him."

 

"Just like Cain's brother, Abel." Dean interrupted.

 

"Exactly, boy. He wanted to see Castiel dead. So, these new houses didn't have anyone living in them yet. So he locked the kid in the basement in one of the houses and tortured him until he eventually died. Faked the kid's suicide, and his wife went missing soon after."

 

"Didn't the legend say that he and his wife were murdered by Castiel on his anniversary?" Dean asked. 

 

"That's the made up part, boy. Naomi went missing after the supposed suicide. Rumour was that she learned that her son was still alive and went crazy on her husband. I say he killed her. Cain was determined to kill everyone who had ever trespassed on his land but on this supposed anniversary, he was killed while possessing Zachariah. Before his death, though, they say he cursed the land so that no one could ever leave - after that the population dropped like flies." Bobby said.

 

"They left?" Dean asked.

 

"They died." Bobby said. "One girl was hung from the top off a ferris wheel, another drowned." 

 

"Was there a Dean Smith?" Dean questioned. 

 

Bobby thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, yeah, he was Castiel's boyfriend or somethin'. He left town and never came back."

 

"Why?" Dean asked. 

 

"He was told to go - by Castiel, apparently." Bobby shrugged. "Like the kid knew what was gonna happen."

 

He told me to go? Dean thought. He knew?

 

"What - what killed him - them? Zachariah and Cain?" Dean enquired.

 

"A lot of people say it was Castiel's spirit, others say the spirits of the slaves." Bobby shrugged. 

 

"Wait - would these slaves kill others too?" Dean asked.

 

"More than likely - they didn't like how they were treated in life so in death they became vengeful, and vicious, and aim to kill." Bobby explained.

 

"They were tortured in Cain's basement, right?" Dean asked and Bobby nodded. "Before the new houses were built, would the basement in Novak Manor stretch across the whole street?"

 

"What do ya mean?" Bobby asked. 

 

"Like, the basement in my house - did that used to be part of Novak Manor's basement until they built the new houses?" Dean explained carefully.

 

"Oh, yeah, it did," Bobby nodded.

 

"That must've been the thing that grabbed Sam," Dean muttered to himself.

 

"What's that, boy?" Bobby asked.

 

"Er, nothing - hey, when these Novaks were alive - why didn't the dad like the Russian language or Communism?" Dean asked.

 

"Don't you pay attention in your history class, boy?" Bobby asked, folding his arms. "People in America were afraid of Communism at that time - nobody wanted to be associated with it."

 

Castiel's giving his messages in Russian so that his dad can't understand them, Dean realised. 

 

"Hey, Bobby, what's a spiritum mendacii?" Dean asked. 

 

"Ghost of lies, I think," Bobby said. "It's a type of ghost or spirit that gives people false visions or whatever to trick them." Bobby replied.

 

"What does "break the glass" mean?" Dean asked.

 

"To break glass," Bobby replied sarcastically.

 

"I mean in terms of ghosts," Dean rolled his eyes.

 

"Eh, well sometimes ghosts are trapped in pictures and the glass frame or screen or whatever is what traps them. Break that and they'll be free." Bobby explained. "Can I ask you something, boy?"

 

Dean nodded, "Yeah, anything."

 

"Why are you so interested in all of this?" Bobby asked and Dean froze, his mind scrambling for an excuse.

 

"Just - it's interesting, s'all." Dean explained weakly and Bobby nodded, although he didn't look convinced.

 

While Bobby left the office to make himself and the three boys dinner, Dean sat and thought for a while. He searched through the books and picked out an old, leather bound book on the history of his town. He flipped open the cover and found an unopened letter. It was old and the envelope had yellowed with age. He read the date on it. 

 

July 1st, 1926

 

Dean knew thay a lot of Bobby's books had been given to him and that he'd read most of them. Although, some were extremely old and he hadnt bothered, allowing them to sit on his shelf and collect dust like their previous owners - that book must've been one of them otherwise Bobby would have noticed the letter and given it to Dean. Curious, Dean flipped it over in his hands but froze, almost dropping it in the process. Written in slightly faded black ink, a name was scribbled across it in neat, cursive writing:

 

Dean Winchester

 


	8. Groundhog Life

Dean,

The tale you have unearthed  
And the secrets you now know  
Shall guide you in your attempts  
To defeat your foe.

To free a heart   
Trapped in time,  
Do not be decieved  
By the others that mime.

So listen well   
And hear my cry,  
Your newfound journey  
Begins at the eye.

Now hurry along, tick tock, tick tock,  
For you are looking against the Clock.

Love, 

Castiel

Dean turned the yellowed and aged page over in his hands, his eyes scanning the back for any other writing. Dropping the letter onto his lap, he tore open the envelope to search for anything else - any other kind of information. 

Nothing. It was empty.

Picking up the letter again, Dean scanned the page over and over again, drawing a blank in his mind. Why would a poem be written to him? How would a poem be written to him decades before he was even born? And what was it for?

To make matters worse, poetry was never his strong point. All in all, to him, the information was useless. Racking his brain for ideas, a laugh from Sam and Adam in the kitchen caught his attention.

Dean thought for a moment - his brothers were the smartest people he knew and if anyone could figure this out, it was them.

Sighing, Dean made his way into the kitchen were Sam and Adam were playing on their PSPs at the kitchen table.

Glancing up at him, Adam quickly paused his game, a concerned look dawning on his features. "You okay, Dean?" He asked, and Sam looked up, finally noticing his older brother's presence, and he too paused his game.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean stated before he placed the letter in the middle of the table, sitting down opposite them. They both looked at the page and then back up at him, confused. "I was wondering if you two could figure this out." He said.

Still confused, the younger Winchesters read over the letter and just as Adam was about to speak up, Sam gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs.

"Why?" Sam asked while Adam tried to sooth his now aching ribs.

"Just cause." Dean shrugged.

"Castiel? Wasn't that the name of the guy that died in that house down the street?" Sam prompted and Dean shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck. "Why's he writing you love letters?" 

"Sammy, can you just tell me what it means?" Dean snapped.

"Not until you tell us why." Sam replied, elbowing his twin in the ribs again before he could speak.

"Why does it matter?" Dean asked.

"Because I didn't imagine what happened to me, Dean." Sam replied, his tone firm and final. "Do you think we haven't noticed the way you've changed? You're more jumpy, tired more often - you're afraid, Dean, and we want to know why."

"What happened to you?" Adam asked, looking between the two glaring brothers, confused.

"Our house us haunted. That's what happened." Sam replied, not taking his eyes off of Dean.

"I knew it." Adam muttered to himself, and both Sam and Dean slowly turned their attention to him.

"You - you know?" They both asked simultaneously.

"Well, I thought - it's just," Adam sighed. "There's these people --"

"The slaves." Dean supplied and Adam gave him a confused look before shaking his head.

"People. People we know. Samandriel, Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Charlie - the whole lot of them but they're - they're," Adam sighed, rubbing his eyes, "they're dead. But they're wearing clothes - from like the --"

"Nineteen twenties." Dean supplied once more.

"Yes, but the nineteen forties, and sixties, and eighties, and they're just there. In our house. Covered in blood and there's more than one of them - more than one Charlie, more than one Michael. I thought I was just imagining it." Adam explained.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked.

"You didn't tell me anything! And do you know how crazy it sounds? Would you have believed me if you hadn't experienced something yourself?" Adam argued and Sam opened his mouth to defend himself but nothing came out.

Debating whether or not to tell them the whole story, Dean sighed - he needed their help, whether he liked it or not. "Listen..." Dean began and he told them everything he knew so far, a heavy weight settling in his chest. The last thing he wanted was his little brothers dragged into this mess. Concluding his long story, he sighed again, "so, can you help me or not?" 

Glancing at each other, Sam and Adam pulled the old piece of paper toward them.

"Why is it a poem?" Dean asked.

"In case someone or something else tries to read it. They'll think that it's a love letter or riddle but it's a warning." Adam replied and Dean nodded in understanding. 

"Okay, well," Sam scratched his head and thought for a moment, "it says here to "not be decieved by others that mime", which, I guess, could mean that someone's trying to trick you?" He suggested. "Maybe this Zachariah or Cain guy is giving you fake memories? Like the one of Castiel committing suicide? Because you said that he was actually murdered. Like he's trying to give you the wrong one's to confuse you."

"Right, okay," Dean nodded along with Sam's deduction. "So I shouldn't trust the visions?"

"Not until we can figure out which are real and which aren't." Sam replied.

"Okay, Adam?" Dean turned to the youngest Winchester.

"Okay, so, I'm thinking that it's a warning from this Castiel guy, so we can probably trust it." Adam began but Dean interrupted.

"How do you figure?" Dean asked.

"Well, it's written in the form of a Shakespearian sonnet." Adam shrugged.

Dean blinked. "A what?"

"A Shakespearian sonnet - you know, fourteen lines with three stanzas consisting of four lines each and a rhyming couplet at the end." Adam explained. "It's usually used to symbolise love, i.e. Castiel's love for you," Dean nodded in understanding.

"And you think that that's something to go by?" Dean raised an eyebrow. 

"And you think that a letter from a dead guy is something to go by?" Adam raised an eyebrow, earning him no reply from Dean. "That's what I thought. Well, anyway, the lines "so listen well and hear my cry" are kind of like a warning, so you need to be careful."

"Right," Dean nodded.

"As for "your newfound journey begins at the Eye", I don't think it means a literal eye, I think it means like a ferris wheel, you know, kind of like the London Eye." Adam went on and Dean nodded in agreement, despite his confusion. "And I know that there's an abandoned carnival or something in the old part of town that has a ferris wheel in it. Samandriel showed me it."

"Aww, did you two go on a little date?" Sam teased his younger brother and Adam elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut up, you big stupid tree," Adam spat, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

"Ooh, did you kiss him?" Sam smirked and Adam threw a pencil at him.

"Shut up!" Adam mumbled angrily.

"Okay, guys, shut it. What do you mean 'the old part of town'?" Dean asked. "Like, it's just abandoned?"

"Yeah, it has the carnival and a mental asylum, which is really creepy, but, yeah, it's a pretty weird place. It's been here from, like, the 1900s. It was built by the Novaks." Adam shrugged.

"Who the hell just abandons a whole part of their town?" Dean couldn't fathom why. Had that carnival been the same place that Castiel had brought Dean in his vision? Had he been trying to give him a clue? Damn, his dead boyfriend had been dropping more hints than Cluedo. 

"Apparently some girl died there," Adam replied. "Her name was Charlotte or something. She was hanged off of the top of the ferris wheel. Well, a lot of people died there, but she probably had the weirdest death."

Dean's mind was racing. He was almost sure that this 'Charlotte' was somehow associated with Charlie. "Something about this town doesn't make sense, guys," Dean sighed. Adam and Sam looked at him curiously. "The people here, they've all lived here before. It's - it's like they're trapped in this town."

"Well, I mean, they can leave," Sam said and Dean shook his head.

"I don't think they can," Dean replied. "It's like they're bound to this town. Adam, what you said about seeing them in different clothes from different periods - all within twenty or thirty years from each other, right?" Adam nodded. "What if they're stuck in this town. They die and they're reborn, only to die again at the same age each time? It would explain the time gap between the style of clothes. But the question is why? Why are they stuck?"

"Maybe we could try and get them to remember?" Sam suggested. "You know, bring Charlie to that fair and see if she has a memory of this?"

"And we better hurry. All of the Charlies I've seen have all been the same age. The same age Charlie is now." Adam said.

..........

After saying goodbye to Bobby and promising to see him again soon, the Winchesters sped down the relatively empty roads of their town. Their destination was Michael and Lucifer's store. 

Dean was confused. He wasn't afraid. He should've been... but he wasn't. Neither were his brothers. He found it odd but the whole situation was familiar. He started to suspect that he himself, in a past life maybe, had been in a similar situation.

"Remember, Dean, don't alarm her. Me and Adam will be over by the comics while you talk to her." Sam muttered into Dean's ear as they entered the store.

Dean nodded. He had a plan to test his theory that they were trapped in the town. He didn't know how or of it would work but it was worth the attempt.

"Hey, Charlie, how would you like to go out of town over the weekend?" Dean prompted, startling the redhead and causing her to drop the comic she was holding.

"Sorry, I can't," she replied, picking up the book from the floor.

"Why not?" Dean asked, pretending to look through the shelf of comic books.

"I can never leave this town." 

Dean froze. Charlie's voice changed completely, it was ragged and scratchy, almost like she was gasping for air - like something was choking her.

"What?" Dean asked, his head snapping in her direction.

Charlie turned around and looked at him with a confused look on her face. "I said that I was visiting my parents in hospital." 

"Oh," Dean nodded in understanding. "Well, that's - that's okay, then. Well, do you wanna go to the carnival that's in that old part of town or are you too afraid?"

"Sure, just as long as I don't have to go on the ferris wheel," Charlie laughed. "I've had this weird, irrational fear of them for as long as I can remember."

Dean glanced at his brothers, who both subtly nodded, confirming that they had heard her too.

"Well, me and Sammy and Adam are going there now, it's supposed to be real creepy." Dean said. "Wanna go?"

"Hell yeah I wanna go. I heard that it's haunted. We can be like the ghostbusters." Charlie grinned. "Just let me put this back." She walked off to and random part of the store to return the comic book.

"Dude, Adam just invited Samandriel." Sam prompted, suddenly standing right next to Dean.

"Adam, get over here!" Dean called and Adam momentarily excused himself from Samandriel. 

"You invited Samandriel?" Dean asked and Adam nodded sheepishly. "Why?"

"Well, he knows everything about this town, including the history, more than we do and I thought that he'd be useful," Adam began, "and he looks super cute today." Adam waved clumsily at said boy, who smiled and waved back.

"Good point." Sam nodded and Adam elbowed him in the ribs.

"Get your own!" Adam snapped. 

"I have my own! I mean - I mean - I meant about him being useful!" Sam replied, his cheeks turning pink.

"Oh. Okay then. Let's go!" Adam declared. 

Sam and Dean followed behind him, looking at each other before shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.

As Dean was about to leave, Michael spoke up. Shit. He had forgotten about Michael's psychic ability. 

"Be careful, Dean." Michael warned.

Dean nodded. "I always am."

..............

The drive to the carnival was long, with the teenagers rattling on about the town's history. Dean mentioned what he knew about Cain Primum, obviously not going into depth about the whole possession thing or the real reason they were going to the carnival. 

"He was a witch or something, banished from Salem." Dean shrugged and Samandriel shook his head.

"Cain Primum was a witch hunter." Samandriel corrected him and Dean frowned, nodding in understanding. Although the gears in his mind were turning.

He knew that there must have been a reason that Cain hated Castiel. And Samandriel's statement made him think and yet it made no sense.

Was Castiel a witch?

Cain wanted to kill him because he was a witch? Was Naomi too? As difficult as it was to piece this puzzle of a story together, it was much easier for it to fall apart.

Did I leave because of that? Because he was a witch? Dean thought to himself and suddenly a memory flashed across his mind. 

Flashback

"Fight him, Cas!" Dean ordered, "you're stronger than Zachariah and Cain." 

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm not strong enough. I have to protect you - that's all that matters to me." Castiel shook his head and Dean struggled against the ropes that held him captive in the chair. He wouldn't have had to been bounded if he had just sat still and let Castiel say the goddamn spell. 

"Cas - don't do this! I love you. I love you, Cas. You can't make me forget you!" Dean yelled, angry red marks appearing on his arms as he pushed against the ropes.

"When this is over, you won't remember me. You'll leave this town and you'll be safe." Castiel said, leaning down to kiss him. He broke away, a tear falling from his eye.

"You can say your spell and you can try make me forget but I'll come back. Even if it kills me. I'll come back. And I'll keep coming back." Dean said, having spent forever to trying to convince him to run away. "And I swear to god I'll kill Zachariah or Cain or whoever the hell he is, and we'll be together."

"I know you will." Castiel smiled at him. "But while I'm alive, I won't let anyone hurt you." Picking up a piece of paper with his name on it, Castiel held it over the large black candle, and the flame slowly started to spread over the paper. Ignoring Dean's protests, Castiel chanted;

"As I erase one letter away  
You'll forget your love for me today,  
And when the last letter is erased and burned  
Your love for me shall never return."

Dean slumped in his chair, unconscious, and Castiel's eyes blurred with tears and he felt a lump form in his throat, he choked out;

"I love you, Dean."

Flashbacked 

"Dean, you okay?" Sam whispered, trying not to draw the attention of Charlie and Samandriel, who were chatting animatedly with Adam.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Dean cleared his throat. So Castiel made him forget, did he? And he wasn't strong enough to fight Zachariah and Cain? But it begged the question. Was he now?

Alright, Dean thought, let's go over what we know.

Alright, Cas first:  
1\. Is my dead boyfriend.   
2\. Speaks Russian to confuse his anti-communist father. Wants me to break glass and help him. Still not sure what that means.  
3\. Leaves me clues and poems to help me.  
4\. Was a witch that made me forget him. Rude. 

Alright, now Zachariah and Cain:  
1\. Evil sons of bitches.  
2\. Killed Cas.  
3\. Had the same body because Zachariah was possessed.   
4\. Cain was a witch hunter that was hunting Cas. Ruder.

Alright, the town and people:  
1\. Are stuck in some kind of time loop.  
2\. Are completely fucked up.

Man, could my life get any harder?

..............

The carnival they had arrived at was beyond creepy. It was something straight out of a horror movie. The rusted iron gates had a 'no tresspassers' sign weakly hanging from it, probably having been pushed out of the way by previous tresspassers.

They wandered around for a short while. There were abandoned stalls of varying styles and colours, covering in cobwebs and dirt. The rides were rusted, and had cobwebs draping from them also. It was silent. Not even the wind could be heard.

The large ferris wheel quickly gained the attention of the oldest Winchester, and he gestured for the others to follow. Charlie stepped forward from the group, head tilted to the side as she stared up at the ride, standing as still as a statue.

Suddenly, she jerked, her hands flying to her throat as she gasped and spluttered, and Dean quickly raced forward to catch her before she fell. She spasmed in his hold before she went rigid, eyes rolling back into her head.

"Charlie. Charlie, stay with me. It's Dean. Charlie. Stay with me. It's alright." Dean muttered to her until she gasped, and started coughing.

"Dean, what - what happened? What was that?" She asked as Dean patted her on the back as helped her to her feet.

"It's a long story, Charlie, we need to find a clue --" Dean stopped, looking up at the sign on the ferris wheel. 

The Clock

Dean fished the letter out of his pocket and scanned through it.

Now hurry along, tick tock, tick tock,  
For you are looking against the Clock.

Against the Clock, Dean thought. Slowly, he turned around to the stalls opposite the ferris wheel, followed by the others, and froze. Standing out against the other stalls, a pink one with white stripes with a sign that said 'cotton candy' looked brand new compared to the others. However, Dean was more distracted by the person standing in the stall, holding up a letter, a devious smirk on their face. Sam stepped forward, eyes narrowed at the figure to see who they were before his eyes widened. 

"Gabriel?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story's moving at a pretty slow pace but it'll pick up soon, hopefully. Is the plot too confusing or is it making sense? If not, I'll try figure it out. Is it interesting or predictable? Let me know! Anyway, I thought this chapter was meh but I hope you enjoyed!


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